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Parents tell me this all the time, usually with panic and a little betrayal in their voice: “I finally changed how I respond, and it got worse.” Early in my career, when I would hear this, I would sheepishly shrink down in my office chair. After all, these parents did everything right, and their kid blew up bigger than ever. But over the years, I realized that’s not proof that the new approach failed. In fact, most of the time, it’s proof that it’s finally working. I have seen this exact sequence more times than I can count in 35 years of clinical work: the moment a parent stops feeding an old reactive pattern, the pattern doesn’t quietly retire. It fights back first, harder than it’s ever fought before.
The Blowup Right Before the Breakthrough
Psychologists call this an extinction burst: a temporary spike in a behavior right after it stops getting the response that used to work. Your child’s nervous system isn’t losing. The old pattern is throwing everything it’s got at you, one last time, because it’s never had to try this hard before. By the way, this dogged determination to frantically try to get what you want gets played out at casinos across the land. Just think about all those people at the slot machines who pour in a big chunk of money before they finally give up.
It was surprising to me, even after decades of watching this occur, how predictable the size of the burst is. The boundaries that get tested hardest aren’t the strict ones. They’re the inconsistent ones, the “no” that occasionally caved if the tantrum ran long enough. If you’ll indulge me in taking you back to the casino for a moment, a slot machine is harder to walk away from than a vending machine. The reason is that the slot machine has likely paid out before. An inconsistent limit teaches a nervous system that persistence works. It just never says exactly when.
The Example of Elaine and Ben
I worked with a mother, Elaine (fictitious names here to protect privacy), who’d finally stopped negotiating bedtime with her 7-year-old son, Ben, after months of nightly haggling. Elaine was pumped up that for night one, there was some mild protest. She then became discouraged that for night two, she witnessed Ben having a full-blown, thrashing meltdown bigger than anything she’d seen in a year. She nearly went back to negotiating, but thankfully, she didn’t. Then, for night three, there was nothing in terms of Ben’s reactivity. The system had made its last, loudest bid, and once it didn’t pay off, it stopped bidding.
You might find it surprising that many reactive children have told me things that bluntly confirm this. One 13-year-old put it plainly: “Dude, I mean, Dr. Jeff, like, I’m a drama queen. I kept going on and on with my parents because it worked before.” She wasn’t escalating for the thrill of it; she was running a strategy with a track record. By the way, many other kids have confided in me how they “worked their parents by freaking out.”
Giving in Now Costs More Than It Ever Did
This is the exact moment most parents quietly undo their own progress, and it’s the whole subject of a chapter in my book, 24 Hours to a Less Reactive Child, because the timing of the mistake matters more than the mistake itself. Caving on the bigger, second blowup doesn’t just erase the last few days of work. It teaches something worse than never changing anything: The old strategy still works; it just needs more volume now. The bar for “enough” just went up.
None of this applies to real danger. A child hurting themselves or someone else calls for safety and professional support, not patience. But an ordinary blowup that’s louder than usual, right after you’ve changed something? That’s not a step backward; it’s the last, loudest argument an old pattern has left to make.
The Takeaway
The next flare-up that’s bigger than the last one isn’t a verdict on your new approach. It’s the closest thing to validation you’re going to get, as long as you hold your mud.
